


Teach Me How To Dance

by Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Drabble, Ficlet, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, John reassures him, M/M, Sherlock's Shy And Nervous, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya/pseuds/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock knows how to dance, but John knows how to advance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me How To Dance

**Author's Note:**

> My friend gave me a dancing prompt, and this happened. Words got so pretty, I just decided to keep it short. <3 xx

John’s head was comfortably resting upon Sherlock’s tense shoulder, as their fingers languidly entwined, lacing together in unhurried synchronisation.

“Left,” Sherlock’s trembling register was scarcely above a breath of a whisper, his platonic purpose having been tossed away many moments ago.

“It’s right,” John corrected, reticent, his eyes searching out Sherlock’s dilated gaze, a ghost of a smile inching on his lips. He demonstrated by performing the precise step. Sherlock swallowed dryly, his posture straightening, a forlorn mask enfolding his expression.

“No, no, it’s all right,” John pressed closer, only to belatedly note that he had successfully compressed the cumbersome distance spacing them.

“John,” The detective’s voice was taut with trepidation, thus, restraining him to barely monosyllabic replies.

“Shush, I’m here.” Sherlock’s breath evaporated on his tongue, abandoning him, dizzying his vulnerable mind. John knew his heart - the Virgin’s honest, unused heart -, was faltering in beat, terror as palpable as Sherlock’s fluttering pulse, shivering with John’s every exhale.

“Don’t.” The warning was meek, sheepish, even. Sherlock was unable to depend on his own emotions. He knew it was much too formidable a labour, complying to his heart’s wishes. So, therefore, John Watson did the only sensible thing.

He pricked his head up, quirked a smile, and kissed the consulting detective.


End file.
